The origins of the Monarchy of Estancia come to light as a young Kevin Weiss leads his Harbinger Unit on a select mission of importance that will lead him to a horrible truth. And eventually, his destiny.

"This
is
only an exercise. If it doesn't work out we'll just replace him
then."

Kevin
looked at the faces surrounding him in the firelight and did his best
to look unafraid as he said, "You have my word; I'll do my best
to lead us all through this ordeal and all those to follow."

"An
excellent speech, but altogether meaningless if your best isn't
good enough."

Each
member took up their respective equipment and moved to their posts.
The one who had spoken last sat with a portable computer and
monitored several instruments relaying messages to the others around
the room. He had a neatly trimmed mustache that was no doubt the
definition of regulations.

A
girl sat with her uniform top unbuttoned at the machine-gun nest. Her
red hair blazed down her back in an untidy ponytail and sweat ran
freely down her neck and chest.

A
non-descript man lay at a window looking out a rifle scope while he
made silent adjustments based on the incoming data. His brown hair
had been recently shaved to meet inspections.

A
younger blonde man stood cross-armed by the door, a pair of automatic
pistols and a baton in his belt. His hair feathered down his neck as
he ran his fingers through it, clearly against regulations.

The
fifth member of the squad couldn't be seen, but Kevin knew he'd
be watching from somewhere with his amber eyes. Kevin heard a
reassuring tap on the grate above him as he primed his own pistol.

Taking
two grenades with him Kevin went upstairs to check the traps the
squad had set up. In the three hours they'd been given to work with
the team had managed to set up an impressive array of debilitating
and distracting traps along the route to their point of defense,
linking them with cameras that fed to the upper level. Unfortunately,
though several had been triggered, there was no evidence of them
being successful in their purposes.

"Bad
news," Kevin announced as he returned to the ground level. "It
looks like our enemies are pretty skilled. At least half our traps
have been tripped on purpose already. Including the pitfall and the
flash grenades."

"They're
moving faster than we expected, then," said the man at the rifle.

"Not
only that, but they're doing so without any sort of communication
for me to tap."

"Relax.
They'll get here when they get here," came the blonde one's
answer.

"And
then we'll mow them down," the girl finished.

"Kill
the fire," came a voice above us. "I get a feeling they're
coming."

Kevin
put out the fire and retreated to the stairwell, checking the load in
his weapon again. As he returned the pistol to its holster he heard
the machine gun wind up and begin firing, shortly followed by several
rounds from the rifle at the window.

"Got
one," said the girl happily.

"Two,
here," answered the sniper proudly.

The
door burst in and fell to the floor.

"Trick-or-treat
kiddies!"

The
muffled sound of a pistol firing into someone's stomach came just
before the thud of a falling body and the blonde's voice.

"I
always liked 'trick', personally."

"That
makes four already. That only leaves two."

A
shout of pain came from the window, then another from the gunnery
nest. Heavy footfalls came before two more cries from the blonde man
and the one with the mustache.

"There
should be two others. Check upstairs."

A
shadow slid dimly along the wall as one of the intruders began to
descend on Kevin. The grate crashed to the floor and the sickening
crack of breaking bones echoed around the corner before a gunshot
reached his ears. A few moments of silence followed.

"And
that's six. Come on out, leader."

Kevin
came around the corner sweeping the room with his pistol leveled
ahead of him. He knelt to check his squad-mates' condition and was
relieved to find they each had steady pulses.

"Looks
like the stun tags work," he announced.

"Too
bad he wasn't lucky enough to get one," the man said
apologetically. "It'll take time, but his bones'll mend
eventually."

With
his concern for his team-mates passed, Kevin looked at one of the
unconscious intruders, noticing the grotesque angle his arm had been
bent into.

"What
did you do?" Kevin asked with shock.

"I'm
not really sure, myself. I was in the vent waiting for the right
moment, then before I knew what was happening I was standing over
this poor guy."

"Shouldn't
we check to see if the others are alright?"

"I
wouldn't worry. Remember, we weren't given the experimental tags.
Just the standard rubberized bullets with the sleeping agent."

"But
there have been complications with that drug before, haven't there?
That's the whole reason for testing these tags. We'll have to
round them up for the instructors anyway."

"Fine.
Do what you want. I'm going to go check our traps, see if I can
figure out how they spotted them."

The
man was getting back just as Kevin had finished the knot on the ropes
binding their six enemies together. Fortunately there was no sign of
any complications, aside from a large number of welts and a clearly
fractured rib in the case of the opposition's leader, who had been
caught in the machine gun's fire.

"So,
what'd you find out?" Kevin asked, wiping the sweat from his
brow.

"They
got lucky. Every single trap was triggered by wildlife. They were too
small to be picked up on our monitors because we had to set them up
so far away. Rabbits, birds, and even a squirrel."

"A
squirrel?" Kevin said, surprised. "You sure? Not many of those
running around these parts, what with all the deforestation going on
around the major cities."

"Yeah.
It bounced its way right into the center of the flash-bangs. Poor
little thing's skull caved in under the pressure."

"Damn.
Rotten luck. I suppose it's pretty much the same story with the
rest of the animals, too?"

"Yeah.
But with such hasty work it's no surprise so many of our traps got
screwed with."

"So,
now what?"

"Now
we wait for the instructors to come along and announce the results of
our trials. Until then, we take turns on the watch. There's nothing
monitoring these games, and nothing to stop them from taking us down
and saying they won if they wake up."

"I'll
take the first watch, then. I've got to do something useful,
right?"

"I'm
glad to hear you're in agreement. Wake me up in two hours, then."

He
went upstairs without saying anything else, or giving Kevin the
chance to respond.

"Who
is that guy?" Kevin asked the early morning air.

The
next three hours passed uneventfully. When the sky had turned to the
bright blue of an autumn morning the sound of a helicopter landing
outside reached the ears of the building's occupants, waking Kevin
from his turn at sleep. An officer came into the shack and
immediately assessed the situation, barking orders at medical teams
who took the sleeping teams into the waiting helicopter.

"Which
of you is the squad leader?"

"I
am, sir," Kevin said hesitantly.

"Report."

"Sir!
As you can see we withheld the enemy attack with the use of our
available equipment and abilities while holding our own losses to
what can be considered tactically acceptable."

"You
consider the loss of two-thirds of your squad to be tactically
acceptable?"

"Given
the results it has brought, yes sir. If the mission brings death to
its participants, then so be it. That's the fate of a soldier."

"Show
me a soldier that believes in fate and I'll call him and everyone
that came before him a coward, son. Nevertheless, you are technically
correct. Now, our medical teams will have the rest of your squad
revived within the hour and you will be briefed on your first
legitimate mission. Henceforth your team will answer as Harbinger
Unit. You will be my personal task force. You do not exist as any
part of this army and no one is to know of your presence at any time.
Any equipment or supplies you need will be obtained through me and me
alone. The others of your team will be at that cave on the northern
face of the mountains. I will expect you to be there when I arrive in
one hour. Dismissed."

Thirty
minutes later the defending team met up in a cave hidden from view by
a shelf of the mountain. When all six of them had arrived they
addressed each other casually, giving names and various other
information relevant to their new position within the military. Kevin
started things off.

"Kevin
Weiss. Tactical analyst and hand-to-hand combat expert. Age: 17. No
known parents or relatives. That's my file. I was raised in an
orphanage for children whose parents died in combat or in accidents
related to the war. As you know King Reynard began sweeping such
orphanages for 'youngsters with moldable talent' in order to
bolster his forces before beginning his uprising. I was trained to be
an officer and a leader from the beginning, but this trial was my
first practical experience. I apologize for the injuries you received
on account of my inexperience."

"Johann
Falkner," The blonde man began from where he leaned against the
cave wall, drawing his finger along the wall in swirling patterns.
"Call me Johann and I'll rip your lungs out. Close combat
specialist and small arms marksman. Age: 21. My family has a long
history with military service, though I'm the first to serve in
nearly a century. The family turned to arms manufacturing after a
while and became ridiculously wealthy. But when the King's army
came marching through Old Germany they started kowtowing right along
with the rest of the old toadies, sending their kids off to join the
military as soon as the town was occupied. Because of my natural
talents I was trained strictly for combat in low-mobility areas. I
assume the idea was to make me a bodyguard for important persons, or
an assassin. Unfortunately I also have what most of my instructors
considered to be a problem with authority, so those plans never had
the chance to take root. As it is, I've found myself sloughed off
onto you as a way of removing a problem. Regardless, my life's a
chip in your pile now, squad leader."

"Anita
Greyword," The girl said with a flip of her hair. "Mobile armor
gunner and pilot. Highly skilled with small arms. Age: 19. I'm an
orphan, too. I'm told I was the illegitimate child of a politician
in Old Austria. When he learned his mistress was pregnant with me he
exiled her from the territory. I was told she died a few months after
giving birth to me. Fortunately her being exiled saved us both from
the first strikes from Italy that claimed the lives of the entire
Austrian senate and their families. At some point I was adopted by
the Falkner family and enrolled in military school. I was trained for
tank duty, either as the commander or the gunner, and can perform as
a spotter for artillery or snipers if necessary. It'll be a
pleasure working alongside each of you."

"Ivan
Mikhail Cosgrove," The man with the mustache said. "Data
collection both in and out of combat is my specialty. From the
current weather to enemy positions, if it's on the air-waves I can
find it, given the time. Age: 24. I come from a long line of officers
who all proudly served their countries. I was raised with a sense of
pride in that fact and the notion that there was no greater honor
than a military career. And so here I am. I was told that I am unfit
for officer status, even after all the strings and favors my father
tried to pull in. He was stripped of his rank for displaying such
shameful behavior and hasn't come out of the bottle since. Still, I
have a certain knack for the administrative end of things. That being
said, I would be glad to act as your second-in-command if you so
deem."

The
man who had manned the rifle stepped forward. "Marcus Kain.
Marksman. Age: 20. Former member of the British Child Army. As such
I've been fighting since the age of twelve. I was an orphan, too.
When the military came to our home they took me and two other
children that they considered teachable to a truck. I broke out of
camp one night and found my way back to the orphanage. They had
killed the other people there. The staff, the other kids, even a pair
of adults that had been visiting at the time. And they didn't even
try to hide the bodies. Since then I've been working to prevent
that kind of thing happening again. I turned traitor and came to the
R.C.A. thinking they'd be my best shot at achieving that. Here's
to high hopes."

Last
to speak was the man who had hidden in the vent. "Nathaniel Drake.
Infiltration and extraction specialist. Apparent age: 20. Actual age:
Unknown. I have no memory of anything outside of my military service.
The first memory I have is slitting a man's throat during a
mission. I was born on the battlefield and that's where I live. So
long as there's a job to be done, my life's in your hands squad
leader."

"We
are the members of Harbinger Unit," Kevin announced when everyone
had finished. "Apparently we're General Garm's secret task
force and don't exist as official members of the R.C.A. Which makes
me wonder what we're supposed to do when they see us using their
military's equipment."

"They
won't," came the general's voice from the mouth of the cave.
"Or at least they won't know it belongs to their military.
Everything you will be using is very experimental, still in
development. And when speaking of me from now on you will address me
as Boss or Leader. My orders come directly from King Reynard. We're
going to eliminate his enemies within the nation for him."

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